I didn’t hear it either. An electric strimmer’s got a lot going for it – as opposed to my petrol driven one, with its noise, vibrations and fumes. But that very silence can be a killer too. My eye was caught by a flash of metallic sheen. There amongst the grass trimmings along the edge of the road was a beautiful torque. I bent down and picked up the silky smooth, still warm circlet which I could wrap round my wrist. I stood for a moment, wondering whether to show this discovered treasure to the strimmer up on his bank, but he was focused on his work, and what would have been achieved? Instead I called out good morning to him – which it was, the slow worm no doubt also enjoying the unexpected warmth of the sun a few minutes ago – and slipped the compliant creature into my pocket. When I got home, I laid it out on the table, admiring the different colours of its two sides, the ease with which it could make different shapes – letters and numbers – and the at